


Fortune's Fool

by StarryDreamer



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Matchmaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7884778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryDreamer/pseuds/StarryDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy found the perfect match for Jemma online. There was just one problem: Jemma had to agree to meet him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortune's Fool

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just continuing to move my fics over from [FFN](https://www.fanfiction.net/~starrydreamer01). This story was based on a real life one! I was listening to the Paranormal Podcast and the host interviewed author Marie-Ange Faugerolas and told a story of how a couple met. I took that story and adapted it to FitzSimmons.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

Jemma Simmons looked up from her microscope and found her I.T. technician, Daisy Johnson, standing in the doorway, her face pale and drawn. 

“Is something wrong?” Jemma asked with concern as she rounded the corner of the lab desk and headed toward her, her arms outstretched. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”

Daisy wrung her hands at her waist. “I’m fine. It’s just…” She paused, her teeth pulling at the corner of her bottom lip. “You’re going to be mad.” 

Jemma dropped her arms; it felt as if her heart had sunk into her stomach. Her mind immediately raced with potential possibilities, each more horrifying than the one that preceded it. “You didn’t accidentally erase the data on the pyrophoric substances that I’d sent to you? Or did the chiller fail and all of my enzyme samples are ruined?” It wasn’t the first time that disaster had struck Jemma. Her last, less competent technician had erased a year’s worth of data in one fell swoop. The setback had cost her a grant and a speaking tour, so she couldn’t risk it happening again; she’d spent far too many hours in the lab in an attempt to rebuild her reputation. “Please tell me you haven’t lost the polyol backup?” 

“What? No, no!” Daisy insisted, her hand waving dismissively. “It’s nothing to do with your research. Or work,” she further clarified. 

“Oh.” Jemma frowned, confused. “If it’s not work, then what is it?” 

“I may have found you a boyfriend,” she blurted, cringing at her own words.

“What?!”

Jemma had met Daisy over a year ago when she’d run into an issue with her polymer infusing program. The young technician had masterfully manipulated the algorithms in half the time that Jemma had expected and then suggested an enhancement to the syntax and schematics that had allowed for Jemma to explore an entirely new realm in her terragen analysis. She’d been incredibly grateful for the help and Daisy was eager to offer several more suggestions for a few of Jemma’s other projects. 

While the two had become fast friends, Jemma’s self-imposed work schedule left her little time to pursue social engagements. Daisy would often join her after her own work day had ended, smuggling beer and fast food past the night guards and into the labs. While Jemma worked, Daisy would sit in the corner snacking and filling her in on the corporate gossip. 

“You know how I’ve been saying that you should get out and see the city? Experience life?”

“Yes…” Jemma replied hesitantly, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. Daisy was constantly insisting that she make an effort to get out. She was always telling her to go to nightclubs or restaurants, and she was especially obsessed with finding her a boyfriend. Jemma didn’t have time for such frivolities as competition at S.H.I.E.L.D Diagnostics was fierce. If she intended on becoming the head of the Science Division, she would have to prove her worth which meant that she had to make sacrifices in some aspects of her life. 

Jemma was fully aware of what the other researchers and developers her age were doing each weekend, she just had no interest in doing the same; her work was far more important to her and if that meant that she was left single, she was fine with that. Once she figured out the flow cytometry of extremophiles, she’d be a shoo-in for Division Head. But in order to isolate the properties, it required hours of research and testing and she couldn’t do that if she was out each night partying or going out on dates with a boyfriend. 

Daisy pursed her lips as if steeling herself. “Don’t be mad, okay?”

“Daisy!” she cried, yanking the latex gloves from her hands and tossing them into the nearest hazards bin. “I can’t be mad if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“I set up an account with Okay, Cupid.”

“The dating site? Why on Earth would I be mad that you’d decided to date?” 

Daisy’s jaw flexed for the briefest of moments and her hands twisted together. “I set up an account…” she began again. “For you.” 

“ _What?!_ ” She could feel the colour drain from her face. “How-- What do you mean you set up an account _for_ me?” 

“Well,” Daisy hedged nervously. “It’s just that you’re always working so much and I wanted you to find someone.”

“I don’t need anyone,” Jemma said tersely. 

“I know! I know! I don’t know what I was thinking… I just… You’re always so busy and I wanted to help, I guess. You deserve to be happy--”

“-- I _am_ happy! This,” she motioned to the lab at her back, “makes me happy.”

“A lab is not real. It’s a _thing._ ”

“It’s real to me.”

“You deserve the best, the best _someone_ in your life,” Daisy countered.

“I have plenty of someones in my life.” 

“Name one.”

“There’s you.”

Daisy gave her a dissatisfied look. “Someone that isn’t me.” Jemma opened her mouth to reply. “Or your parents or your family.” 

Her mouth snapped closed.

“Exactly. Don’t you want to be able to share your life with someone? Get a little something-something once in awhile.” Daisy flashed her eyebrows suggestively.

Jemma folded her arms at her chest and tilted her head, giving Daisy a purposeful look. 

“Okay, fine,” Daisy admitted. “Maybe it was a bad idea.”

“You think?”

“Just hear me out at least!” 

“This better be good.”

Quickly and barely stopping for a breath, Daisy explained how she’d taken the photograph from Jemma’s security profile and used what she already knew about her to create a profile on _Okay, Cupid_. Then, whenever men sent her virtual heart arrows wanting to converse, Daisy carefully sought out the best candidates. “One spelling error and they were cut, I swear,” she insisted, swiping at her neck to illustrate her point. 

Then, Daisy explained, she’d developed an algorithm in order to ensure that she picked out the most compatible person. 

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “This is him,” she said, handing it to Jemma. “He’s cute, right?” 

Jemma took the phone from Daisy and examined the image and profile that filled the screen. “He lives in California,” she noted matter-of-factly. 

“I know, it’s not ideal--”

“Not ideal? We’re in New York! He’s on the other side of the country!” Jemma handed her back the phone. “You need to check that algorithm again, Daisy, because that’s completely insane. How could you possibly think this would ever work?” 

“But you’re headed to California anyway for that conference next week. It’s the perfect opportunity--”

“No.” Jemma turned and headed back to her lab desk, grabbing another pair of gloves on her way.

“He’s an aerospace engineer. Got a degree in math and engineering from Caltech and he was first in his class.”

“No.” 

“No, he couldn’t possibly have been first in his class at Caltech?” Daisy hedged, following Jemma.

“No. I’m not going to meet him,” she clarified, turning as she snapped on her gloves.

“Jemma!”

“ _Daisy._ ” Jemma mimicked, setting her hand on her hip. “If you’re so keen on him, you go and meet him.”

“The algorithm picked him for you!” 

“I need to get back to work.” She flipped on the light for the microscope and leaned over the eyepiece. “If you don’t mind…” she said with a flick of her wrist.

Daisy made a sound of protest and stomped her foot petulantly. “I’m going to text you his photo and info,” she called out undeterred and Jemma’s phone vibrated in the pocket of her lab coat. “Think about it,” she continued. “When you’re laying in bed, all alone and you have an itch you want scratched--”

“Daisy!”

She held her hands up, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying. The nights are long in California.”

“Actually it’s the summer, the nights are quite short. You have heard of Daylight Savings Time, haven’t you?” 

Daisy rolled her eyes and turned, exiting the room. “Whatever, Jemma!” She said with a dismissive wave over her shoulder.

“See you tomorrow, Daisy,” she replied laughingly.

...

_Hey Jemma, can’t wait to meet you!_  
Hope tomorrow @ 6 works? Daisy says that’s your day off.   
Let me know! 

Jemma gripped the handle of her carry-on and stared down at the text message, fuming as she walked. It seemed that Daisy had taken it upon herself to pass along her cell number to the man from _Okay, Cupid_ that she was convinced was Jemma’s perfect match. 

“The cosmos wants you together!” Daisy had declared on more than one occasion, begging Jemma to reconsider. 

Jemma rolled her eyes at the memory; as if the cosmos wanted anything!

She made a mental note to kill Daisy when she returned home from the conference in California. 

Her carry-on bag bumped against her heel as she came to an abrupt stop and she slid her thumb against the screen of her cell phone and quickly tapped out a message to Daisy. 

Apparently I have a date tomorrow? Explain yourself. 

She hit send and waited for Daisy to reply. A moment passed before her phone chimed, but rather than a text Daisy had sent an image. 

_Why are you sending me smiling feces?_ Jemma typed in reply. _I told you I wasn’t interested in being matched with anyone. I don’t need your help._

_Humor me, _Daisy’s text read. _He’s hot, you’re hot, you’ll make hot babies._ __

__Jemma shook her head. _I’m not interested in having children,_ she typed._ _

___Jemma._ She could almost hear Daisy’s unimpressed tone in the words that appeared on her phone screen. _No one says you need to have children. Just meet him at least. It’s just coffee. Or tea, in your case. It won’t kill you.__ _

__Jemma groaned aloud, causing a few heads to turn. Normally she’d have been embarrassed to have reacted so vocally in a public space, but Daisy had succeeded in further infuriating her. While she’d made valid points, Jemma disliked the overt trickery that had gone into securing the meeting. Date, she corrected._ _

__She snatched the handle of her carry-on bag and with a huff of indignation, bustled forward into the crowd of airport travellers. She still had plenty of time before she had to make her connecting flight, but if she was going to avoid saying something indecorous to Daisy via text message she’d need a strong, soothing tea first._ _

__Just as she’d begun to mentally debate between a sturdy kava or a light camomile, her body ran solidly into something warm, sending her flying forward. She reached outward, grasping at air. Her fingers eventually hooked into skin, but her efforts had been made too belatedly, as her rear landed onto something soft which cracked under her weight._ _

__“Steady on!” a voice called out in a thick, Scottish brogue. “Are you alright?”_ _

__Jemma’s face burned with embarrassment and she gratefully took the man’s hand as he helped her to her feet. She turned to examine the damage she’d wrought with her clumsy tumble and saw a carry-on bag laying prone on the floor, its wheels turned in an unnatural direction._ _

__“Seriously, are you alright?” The man asked again, his hand pressing lightly against her shoulder._ _

__She waved dismissively. “More embarrassed,” she acknowledged, begrudgingly. “But your bag! What have I done?” Her palms pressed against her flushed cheeks._ _

__“It’s fine. It’s a raggedy old thing anyway.”_ _

__She reached for her purse. “At least let me pay for the damage.”_ _

__The man shook his head. “Seriously, it’s not a problem.”_ _

__“But it’s destroyed!”_ _

__“Nothing is ever unfixable!” he declared boldly before bending to one knee and unzipping the front pocket of his carry-on and removing a small tool kit._ _

__Jemma watched, stunned into silence as he laid out a few tools and with expert deftness began to secure the errant wheels. “There,” he said proudly, tidying up the tools and tucking them back into his bag. He stood and pulled at the carry-on by its handle to illustrate that it’d been fixed. “Good as new.”_ _

__“Are you meant to be bringing toolkits onto planes?” she noted dimly. “Aren’t they banned?”_ _

__He gave a sheepish shrug, his cheeks colouring slightly. “I work for a government agency. There are a few perks to be had when you work for Uncle Sam.”_ _

__Jemma felt a strange, unfamiliar tug in her chest when he smiled at her and she felt almost enraptured by the way his blue eyes seemed to sparkle in the artificial lighting of the airport. His mussed, sandy blond hair gave him a boyish look, even with the a day’s worth of stubble lining his jaw._ _

__“At least let me buy you a coffee, or tea if you’d prefer. Or lunch,” she added hastily. “Unless of course you have a flight to catch.”_ _

__He rubbed at his jawline and grinned wider, nodding. “Tha’ be nice. Actually my fight got re-routed; bloody storms over Atlanta, as always. So I’ve got plenty of time.”_ _

__“Good,” she said, her heart pounding a little too loudly and a little too quickly. She mentally cursed its betrayal. “Then it’s settled.”_ _

__They each grabbed their respective carry-ons and she pretended that she wasn’t affected by the slight brush of his hand against hers as they moved in tandem toward the nearest café. The man gave a slight head tilt and motioned toward a table in the far corner of the small bistro and she nodded her approval._ _

__“Where are you headed?” Jemma asked as she took the seat across from him._ _

__“Los Angeles. There’s a conference I’m meant to attend.”_ _

__“I am as well!” She leaned forward, her eyes wide with excitement. “It’s not the Leadership in Biochemistry conference is it?”_ _

__He sighed, shaking his head. “Sadly, no. I’m headed to a Weapons Research & Development one. Strange that one city would have two science based conferences at the same time.”_ _

__She nodded, willing away the disappointment that had begun to settle into her chest._ _

__“I suspect they figured there’d be a bit of a crossover. Sort of like how the military is using the dendrotoxin developed by the biochemists from S.H.I.E.L.D Diagnostics in those railguns their WR &D counterparts created.” _ _

__He opened his mouth to reply but her phone chimed, drawing their attention. It was another text from Daisy._ _

___Are you mad at me?_ she wrote. _Cause seriously I only want the best for you. I’m just trying to help.__ _

__“Is it important?”_ _

__Jemma looked up. “Hm?”_ _

__The man motioned toward her phone. “Your face went all serious suddenly.”_ _

__She shook her head and gently tossed her phone on to the table. “My friend is trying to set me up with someone in L.A,” she admitted without a thought._ _

__He chuckled and leaned forward, resting his chin onto the palm of his hand. His brows furrowed. “Really? This sounds interesting.”_ _

__“It’s not really,” she insisted with a slight eyeroll. “Daisy did it without even telling me and now I’m not sure what I should even do about it.”_ _

__“Do you even know what he looks like?”_ _

__She nodded and tapped her finger against the screen of her phone and scrolled through Daisy’s messages, pulling up the photograph. She slid the phone across the table. “That’s him there.”_ _

__He picked up the phone and scrubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. “Looks to have a bit of a hog face, doesn’t he?”_ _

__Jemma giggled and swatted at him, snatching her phone back. “Stop! You’re terrible!”_ _

__“It’s true!” He insisted with a laugh. “Look at those cheekbones! They’re far too chiseled.”_ _

__“Incorrigible!”_ _

__“Seriously. A few years ago I had a chance to work with a team on a gravitonium sample. It used to shift into this shape that we called The Hog. That face,” he reached across the table and pointed to her phone, “looks like tha’.”_ _

__She snorted. She couldn’t disagree; he did have a bit of a hog face..._ _

__The phone in her hand chimed once again._ _

__“Is that him?” the man asked, his voice squeaking slightly. “Please tell me it’s him!” He threaded his fingers together and rested them on the table, watching her with interest._ _

___I made reservations at La Marquiere on West Pico. Hope this works for you. Please confirm._ _ _

__“Bloody--”_ _

__He smacked the table with palatable excitement. “It is him! What did he say?”_ _

__Jemma turned the phone to face toward him._ _

__His face blanched slightly as he read it, the muscles at his jaw tensing. “So what’re you gonna do?”_ _

__Jemma shrugged and glanced down at the screen. “Not sure.”_ _

__She looked up and let her gaze fall to the stranger that sat across from her and she found herself suddenly very interested in his opinion. “What do you think I should do?” She asked, surprised by the soft inflection of her own voice._ _

__“What do you want to do?”_ _

__His question hung in the air between them and it felt as if there was some unspoken, hidden layer to it. It was as though her answer would make an undefinable difference, one she didn’t quite understand yet._ _

__Then, for the first time ever, she didn’t think nor weigh her options. Instead, without hesitancy, she typed her reply._ _

___I’m sorry Will. I’m going to have to say no._ She quickly looked up at the man before her, her cheeks warm under his stare. _Best of luck to you._ She pressed send and tossed the phone onto the table with finality. _ _

__“There,” she declared contentedly. “Done.”_ _

__“And--?” he prompted with interest._ _

__She smiled nervously. “I said no. It didn’t feel right.”_ _

__“Oh. It didn’t?” A relieved look crossed his features._ _

__Jemma blushed as she shook her head and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You know, I never quite caught your name.”_ _

__He smiled amiably and held out his hand. “Quite right. Fitz. Leo Fitz, that is,” his words came out jumbled and quick. “But just call me Fitz.”_ _

__“Fitz,” she said, letting the name roll across her tongue as she took his hand and shook it. “Jemma Simmons.”_ _

__“‘s pleasure.”_ _

__Their handshake lingered a little longer than customary and when they finally separated, she shifted nervously in her chair, unused to the rush of desire that spiraled through her._ _

__“Shall we see where our waiter is?” Fitz asked, clearing his throat. “At this rate, we’ll both be missing our flights.”_ _

__“Would that be such a terrible thing?”_ _

__He paused, taken aback by her sudden candor. “No,” he replied with certainty, a smile tugging at his lips. “It really wouldn’t.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
